how did i get here?

my husband, my beautiful Dragon, died suddenly at 12:03 AM on 9 February 2009. there was a cold, lovely full moon and 3 feet of snow on the ground. i "slept" for the following 10 months and "woke" to the physical and emotional pain and torments of deep grief. i "woke" to find i had moved the day of his funeral and that i am lost. i am looking for me while i figure out the abstract, unanswerable questions that follow behind any death. my art has evolved. his death changed that as well because i am forever changed and will forever bear the mark of losing the only man i can ever love.
there is alive and there is dead and there is a place in between. i am here wholly in my heart for my children, but i feel empty inside at this time. i miss him. i have not gotten very far in my grief journey. i make no apologies for this.
this is my place, my blog, where i write to tell the universe that i am still here.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

3 surgeries, 3 deaths ~ a day in the life of...

i have done nothing today but look for another job, deal with some medical issues, and been the observer of 3 deaths.

i'll talk about the job thing some other time.  i don't want to sound like i'm complaining.

i got the results of some other tests i had done.  today the doctor told me that i need 3 surgeries.  both my feet and my left knee need surgery.  i told him it will have to wait until i can have health care again.  he understood but told me the pain will get increasingly worse.  there is nothing i can do.

i went home to just sit and remind myself to breathe but i was forced to deal with 3 very small deaths that bear no import to anyone but me.  there will be no write up in any papers or anything like that.  in fact, some readers may roll their eyes.  and that's okay.  i understand that these 3 things are only important to me.

my humidifier died today.  i use it to help me breathe at night.
my toaster died today.  sometimes toast is all i have left to eat until my next paycheck.
my fish died today.  i've had him for almost 3 years.

humidifier and toaster have been solemnly removed to the dumpster.  i stood there for a moment and considered the cost of each item.  can't do it right now.  if my breathing starts to disintegrate i will sell something at the pawn shop and get me another one.  the toaster?  someday i'll get another one.

my fish, Moby Mocha Boo, has been tearfully removed from his tank and placed in a baggy of water and placed in the freezer.  i will take him to my daughter's house on my day off on Friday to be buried in her back yard.  yes, i called her.  she has fish.  3 huge tanks at her house.  3 dogs.  2 lizards.  the girl understands my love of animals.  she carries my genes for that.

i made up a song for him that i sang to him every night before i went to bed.  i have songs for Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums, too.  every animal i've ever owned had their own song that i made up.  it's a foolish thing to do, but i've always been a fool like that.  i sing silly songs to fill the quiet and my animals always seemed to like it.  my dogs love their songs.  Moby Mocha Boo would swim to the top of the tank when i sang his song, even if it wasn't feeding time.

and now he's gone.

i tried not to look at his eyes when i placed him in the baggy.  but before i put him in there, i took a sharpie and wrote his song on the baggy so he will have it with him when i put him in the earth.  and even though i am burying my fish in the earth, he has his water all around him.

i hope he knows how very much i love him and how soothing his swimming was to me.

Moby Mocha Boo, i love you.  you're swimmy and you're silly.
Moby Mocha Boo, i love you.  you're pretty and you're mine.

good-bye, Moby.  you were a funny, silly, very pretty little fish.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

giving myself another chance

first let me write that i read all the comments and they touched me greatly.  i won't apologize for my meltdown.  i have been under a great deal of stress.  it simply happened.  i acknowledge it, but i won't apologize for it.  i fully admit that i am fragile right now.  i am tired through and through.  it's my fault.  i am working on it.  i want to move past it.  i like unloading here.  it helps me get the poison out.  one person wrote to "screen out" the comments that hurt.  i will try to do that.  i think it will be okay to give myself another chance here.

i had always thought that blogs were for their owner's to write anything they want.  if they so choose, they can rant and rave and lift their fist to the sky to get it all out.  primal scream therapy.  but misunderstandings can come because, as someone else wrote, tone is absent.  we do not really know each other here.  i will say, though, that when i leave a comment on someone's blog, i am always greatly careful how i word things.  i would never want to confuse someone or hurt their feelings.

secondly, i got the news of benign.  they do wish to do another screening when my insurance kicks in again this summer.  i admit i cried when i was told.  and if i ever get bad news, i will tell you i will cry then, too.

i continue to sew when i have a day off.
 quilt top for my son for his birthday that is a work in progress.
 summer; and fall is up top as the new banner photo.
 i am purging my closet of his jeans.  i am making myself a kind of Memory Quilt.

and just for the fun of it, here is my little Scootie Wootums who seems to believe
that he can look into the camera lens and see me looking at him.
i continue to miss him.  i am purging my apartment of things {hence the cut up jeans quilt}.  i cleaned out a drawer and found a bunch of papers from the funeral home that handled the cremation for me.  they had a list of things that are "normal" for a grieving person.  of the 20 things on that list, i can still tick off 9 - 11 of those things on any given day. 

throughout most of the days, every day, i do my job.  i work.  i clean my apartment.  i take care of my puppies.  i go to the grocery store.  i sew.  i draw.  but i miss him.  i am lonely.  i do not feel like taking off my rings so i don't think about it.  i do not wish to date to not be lonely.  when i think about how much fun we had, the kind of person he was, how we talked, lived together, loved each other, all the things we went through; i just kinda don't want to try with anyone else.  they say you cannot compare but the terrible thing about me is that i would compare.  he was awesome and i adored him and put him up on this pedestal.  he's still there for me.  so i'm not ready.

but i am lonely.  the days are long.  the nights are long.  but before anyone can point out that everyone has long and lonely lives, that i could do something about it by dating, just know that i know that.  it doesn't ease my missing him.  i understand that being lonely is sort of my choice by living the way i do.  i see the paradox in it. 

it is what it is and i am who i am.  as i wrote at the beginning, i am not going to apologize. 
peace to all who read.  peace and light to all who grieve.

Monday, April 8, 2013

deeply hurt / last post

reading the 2nd comment from my previous post has me in tears over my apparent stupidity.  i am devastated that i wrote that piece; that i expressed my fears and worries.  her words shined a bright light that shows what a fool i am.

the comment also has me realizing that i must stop writing publicly.  heretofore i have found words of solace coming from those who left messages.  but i am in a very dark place and now feel humiliated by what i write.

waiting on the results of a possible cancer diagnosis, the heavy fear of what might be coming my way, worrying about what and if and how...?  {if i do on with my worries it can be pointed out that there is no life without worry and i am a fool for expressing that i wish i had less to worry about}  but i do worry about my children.  i am at an extremely low point right now and i cannot take her verbal recrimination.  at this time i cannot take someone showing me how stupid i am with my worries.

i signed on to hopefully find some show of support that i so desperately need.  she made me feel ashamed for what i wrote.

he is not here to temper this little cruelty by saying things like, "aw, tell her to piss up a rope."  or "f*ck her.  write what you want.  it's your thing.  tell'em all to f*ck off."

he is not here to be with me while i wait on the doctor's report from the biopsy.  i feel so down and scared.

it will be a while before i even think of writing again.  should i choose to make an appearance here ever again, i swear up and down that i will take careful thought before writing something that someone might feel the urgent need to take apart and condemn. 

but since this has now become a source of pain, i may elect not write anymore at all.

Bunny out.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

what is wrong with me?

i do not know what is wrong with me,
but something has to be wrong.
i'm not getting with the program.
i'm not moving on.

i miss him immensely.  i wish he were here.
i wish i were stronger inside.
i wish i wasn't so scared.
i am upset with myself.

i don't know how to fix this.
i try so hard to do everything correctly;
do what is expected of me.
i am working very focused on being what i am supposed to be.

but i cannot lie.
i am not happy.
i am not content.
in fact, i am miserable.

i am scared and worried and filled with anxiety.
i am deathly worried about money,

right now i have to wait 3 months for health care with this new job,
but at least i have a new job.
the pay is less but at least i will have income.
so why am i so miserable.

no, it's not bears anymore.
i sell shoes.
and if i thought they could be unreasonable about bears
they are psycho about shoes.

beyond my fears of life,
as for searching for that happiness thing i have tried to promise myself,
i am failing.
i feel numb inside.

i feel insincere when i smile.
it's tired and fake.
but i manage it for a paycheck.
i keep it all inside until i get back here.

i am failing my children though.
they want me to be happy.
i lie but they can see that i am depressed.
i am too exhausted to do anything but sleep on my days off.

8 hour shifts.  hour + drive to and from work.
i am exhausted.
and i pay my bills but i have little left over for food.
i need the left over funds for gas to get to work and meds.

what is wrong with me that i cannot get on board with this new life?
i am lonely.  i miss talking to him.
i do not have friends.  i do not have the time.
and yet, i would really like to have someone to talk to.

i cry a lot on that hour + drive to and from work.
it's a long haul and takes so much gas.
it's a lonely drive way out there, to another town.
4 towns over.

one more week of that training and then,
i will be sent to another store.
only 40 minutes away, 5 minutes further away than Northlake
where i used to work.

i hate the idea
of always finding jobs
that want me in stores
that are so freakin' far away.

i wish i could find something where i could sit down
and work and make money
and be given health care
and it's only 10 minutes away.

i read about other widows who are getting along just fine;
in fact they are thriving.
they plan trips, go out with friends, date, get married again,
set up big foundations and become renowned as humanitarians
put on pedestals
have people come to them sobbing saying, "you've saved me."
"shown me how to live."
they take tragedy and turn it into livelihood
into something so grand and honorable
while i have done nothing but try to write away my pain
and i've gotten

these women are living.
they truly live.
they are thriving,
not just merely existing,
like me.

i am not living at all.  i am struggling.
i am merely trying to survive.
and i think it's too much to ask life
to let me enjoy some small part of it again.

is it the money thing?
is it the feeling of safety?
of knowing they have a place to live and friends, support around them?
is it knowing, the confidence of being able to go to get food,
any amount of food they want at any time that makes life so much more bareable?
would having those things make it more bearable to me?
would this pain i am trying to write away right now vanish were i to have
enough to live on?
am i an ungrateful wretch for wanting that?

i should just be grateful for a job
that pays and gives health care; and i am.
i should just be grateful that that is all i have.
barely enough is as good as any feast, right?
but my dreams... my fantasies....

in them i have so much more.
nothing crazy, just a small cottage by the sea.
a place for my dogs and me to be free,
and safe.

what is wrong with me that i want these things?
am i that arrogant and selfish?
freedom from worry and anxiety.
i just want to have enough to eat and be safe.

i'd like to have him back.
i'd like to have a touch more than barely enough to get by.
such an arrogant shit i am.
what is wrong with me?